


That Kind

by SoniaVice



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Philadelphia Flyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoniaVice/pseuds/SoniaVice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne, Jake and G, they're like brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Contains:
> 
> * playacting/pranking of incest themes with no negotiation  
> * offscreen sex between Jake and some OFCs
> 
> Good to know:
> 
> * Jake Voráček and Wayne Simmonds room together on the road even though they don't have to anymore. They're just that tight.

It was a bar. They were all the same under the surface. There were drinks and there was music and there were women. Once you'd stopped being pumped up by the millions your contract was worth, the expensive drinks and the ambiance became boring. If you didn't care if the women were expensive, that left the music as the only thing to choose by. 

And, well, it seemed like Wayne never got to choose.

Jake always wanted some trashy dive with indy rock and women in strange colours. Hair, makeup, skinny little skirts, shoes. All weird colours. G was worse. He wanted college kids and loud white-boy rappers and girls who were tiny enough to make him look big and tough. 

How was this his life? Hockey had given him strange bros before, but this pair, they were the strangest. He had earplugs for the bad nights when Jake found someplace with a live set by the latest band no one but him had ever heard of. He had excuses for the nights when G's idea of fun got to be too much. The rest of the time, he just went with the flow.

"Are you guys brothers?"

"Wow, no one ever asks that," Wayne said to no one, because no one was listening to him. They were in a Jake bar, so the asker was a girl with lavender hair and lips like dried blood. Or else the lights were strange, that was possible, because Jake and G looked like their hair was glowing tangerine and their skin was pale as milk. They looked like the zombies on Mason's mask, but they were getting the weirdly-haired girls all excited, so it was all good.

"Oh yeah, absolutely. I'm oldest," G said. He had his bullshitting smile on, the one any girl with any sense would look at and run. They almost never did. "This is my little brother, Jake." He slung his arm around Jake, and for some reason, he leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Jake just shook his head and laughed. Everybody laughed. G being G. They'd only just met him and they knew.

"Oh, so you're _that_ kind of brothers," one of Lavender's friends said, and the girls all laughed. Jake looked a little spooked for a second, but G, G looked like the devil was inside him, curving his lips into that smile, making his eyes go crinkled at the corners so you didn't notice how dark they were. You wouldn't be the first person to fail to realize that what he was thinking wasn't as innocently fun as that dirty little-boy smile made you believe.

"Don't tell anyone," G said, voice husky even though he was yelling over the horrible music. It was a skill, being able to seduce a girl with your voice while you were yelling. He sure as shit didn't sound like that on the ice. He pulled Jake in a little closer until they were pressed together shoulder to knee. Jake went along with it. Jake always went along with G. 

"I don't believe you," Lavender said. "Prove it."

"What?" G said, all affronted. "Look at us, it's the same nose. Everyone says."

"And the same accent," Jake said. Which was so obviously untrue, Wayne didn't even know how anyone could fall for that. Out from under the lights, their hair wasn't even the same colour. 

Jake had his eye on Lavender’s friend, Jet Black and Blue, and she looked captivated so he played along with G a little harder, leaning in and grinning to match him. 

"Not that," Lavender said. "I mean that you're _that_ kind of brothers, prove it."

Wayne started to laugh. There was a rule: never challenge G to a contest. You'll lose, or end up in jail. Or both. But this time, he would never—shit. He totally would. He'd turned without any warning and laid one on Jakey like they were that kind of something. 

Jake went stiff, and G grabbed a handful of his hair and fucking had his damn tongue in Jake's mouth so fast.

Okay, and this was the bad part. Wayne was close enough—he always sat beside Jake—he was close enough, he could _hear_ them. Hear the sounds their mouths made as they sucked on each other's faces. Hear the little moans Jake was making, the growly something G was doing when he broke away, looked right in Jake's eyes before he dove in for some more. 

Fuck. Ing. Christ. 

Lavender was into it, Wayne noticed. Jet Black and Blue was really into it, and Jake was in with her, if he could get his tongue back from G. Wayne was—well, that was where it was all going to hell. Wayne was into it too.

G was laughing when he let Jake go, like the joke had been on him and not the girls. That wasn't a smart thing to do, but no one ever said G was too smart. The other rule was: never piss off Jake. 

Jake gave G a stare usually reserved for zoo animals like zebras and penguins and turned to Jet. "The important question is, are you girls _that_ kind of friends. Because G there, he doesn't do girls." Lavender deflated fast, but Jet was giving her the eye. They had some kind of conference, ignoring G gaving his all, trying to convince them Jake was lying. 

"Babe, you know what happened the last time you tried to get it up for a girl. You don't want that. I need a little me time, sweetheart, but I always come home to you, don't I?" Jake kept that up, keeping G from talking, mostly by keeping him laughing. The girls decided they _were_ that kind of friends, and they dragged Jake off somewhere to do things to him that Wayne didn't need to imagine. He couldn't imagine. His imagination had been highjacked by Claude Giroux. 

G was pissed off enough at losing that he dragged Wayne out, ditching Jake. 

How it actually worked was that Jake always came home to Wayne, so he was trying to sleep and hoping not to dream about that noise G had made and how Jake had been moaning, and how it had all been a bit too much, when Jake stumbled in looking rumpled and a lot more pink cheeked than he had in the bar. "Sorry, Wayne, go back to sleep," Jake said. He had the look of a happy man who didn't worry about his dreams.

"It's okay. You had fun?"

"I had so much fun," Jake said. "It was so worth it."

"You guys planned that?" Wayne said, sitting up. 

"No, that was all G being G. You never know what the fuck he'll do. It worked, and not so horrible, you know. He's a good kisser."

"He's a good kisser, that's what you have to say about it?" Wayne said, incredulous. 

Jake shrugged. "Sure. It's not a big deal, Wayne. It was just a joke, so—you aren't going to be weird about this are you? I _was_ just a joke."

"No, no, Jake, of course not, don't worry about it, brother. Go to sleep." Wayne wasn't going to be weird about it. He wasn't. He could just go to sleep too, and it would not be weird.

G being G. Wayne had never questioned what that meant before. After Jake, he was the closest Wayne had to family in Philly. He was almost as much a brother as Jake, even if he was a harder man to love. 

He could be cold sometimes, G. He wasn't supposed to be good enough for the NHL. He wasn't supposed to be on the scoring charts, ripping it up. He wasn't supposed to be captain. It made a man hard sometimes to hear that. It made him not trust so easily, keep himself to himself. But Wayne had thought he knew who G was. He thought he was the only man keeping parts of himself to himself in their little family.

He waited a couple of stops on their road trip before he did anything about it. He'd known, though, that he was going to do _something_. He tried to be honest with himself, at least; it cut down on the noise in his head if he didn't tell himself the bullshit stories he used on other people. 

He found G wandering the hallway of the hotel. He looked—well out of his clothes G was a fucking cut-granite shithouse, none of that cheap brick. But in them, he was a sloppy mess—t-shirt too big and stretched out, with some stain on it you didn't want to question. He had his hat on backwards, hiding the high forehead, the hair curling around his neck still half wet. He hid his best assets in a pair of oversized basketball shorts. He had dozens of them, would wear them all winter if he could get away with it. 

"Hey, man," G said. 

Wayne realized he was just standing in the hallway staring, and he tried to play it off, make a joke, but it fell flat. G tilted his head and studied him with that flat, dead stare that kept the world from dropping by to tell him how he wasn't good enough. "Something up?"

No. Wayne should say no, make a better joke, smile the bright smile he used to tell the world to fuck off and leave him alone. He should not be weird about any of this, and then G would laugh and joke around and it would all be right. "Maybe," he said.

G made him come to his room, made him take a bottle of water, made him try to sit down. G sprawled out on the edge of the bed, sloppy and messy and only a shade less cold than he'd been in the hallway. "You've been weird," he said. 

"Yeah," Wayne fiddled with the water bottle and got up to burn off some nervous energy. "Yeah, I've—" he turned and looked at G, catching him looking up, and he wasn't cold, he was concerned, maybe a little afraid, maybe a little worried. 

Wayne was staring again, and G stood up like a man who wanted to make you remember how tough he was. G didn't get angry off the ice, not even when he was drunk, but he was trying very hard to be intimidating. Wayne would laugh at him if he wasn't caught by how he didn't find it _funny_ at all. 

"This is about me and Jake—what I did—isn't it?"

"Yeah," Wayne said. He flicked his gaze away from G and tried a smile, but he fired it at his shoes. He looked up and tried to aim it at the frown on G's face. 

"It was a joke, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. Right, right. And Jake, he," Wayne laughed, the _we're just bros here_ laugh. "Jake he made out all right out of the deal. Looked pretty happy when he came back." G didn't crack a smile. Didn't laugh. He looked like he was waiting. Wayne didn't know what the hell for, so he kept babbling. "And you know, it was pretty funny the way he just cut you right out. Serves you right, I mean, it was a joke right, you wouldn't—I mean, that's not—"

"It is," G said, not very loud, but not softly either, and he was still looking at Wayne, considering, and like he was prepared to take no shit whatsoever. 

"What?" Wayne stopped and fiddled with the water, took a long drink while G's gaze didn't waver. "What is it, G?"

"Something I'd do."

"What?" No that's—that's not how this was supposed to go. That—he was— "You mean like a joke right, obviously you'd do it, you did it. What wouldn't you do?" He laughed, hoping G would join in, but he just flashed the tight little smile that meant he wasn't very happy with you.

"I mean, I'd do it when it wasn't a joke. So, if that's going to make you all weird," G shrugged, and any normal guy would turn away, let you think that over, but not fucking Claude fucking Giroux. No, he kept Wayne pinned with that stare, and he saw something on Wayne's face, because Wayne didn't say one damn word, did not so much as blink his goddamned eyes, but there was G, the devil inside him cracking that blank mask. Jesus, the way he looked when he smiled that dirty smile. "That _is_ what's making you weird," G said slowly, like Wayne being weird was suddenly the hottest thing he'd ever contemplated. Like it made him lick his lips like that, and oh, man, this was not good. He probably looked like he was a breath away from drooling, so uncool. 

"Do you want me to, Wayne?" he said, voice that husky purr the women fell for for no damn reason Wayne had ever wanted to admit to. "You do, don't you?" G moved closer, his usual choppy stride on legs too powerful for dry land, nothing sexy in it, not to normal people anyway. He was close enough to smell, cheap soap and breath smelling of lime and sugar. "You're curious?" He laid his hand on Wayne's face, strangely impersonal, like a trainer would. He pushed, tilting Wayne's head. "Want to know what it feels like? Want to know why Jake couldn't say no?"

Yes, hell yes, he did, but wait, no, not curious, that wasn't—G kissed him. He didn't start slow like he had with Jake, but then Jake hadn't known it was coming and Wayne did. He dove in, drove in with force, taking Wayne's mouth with his tongue, his lips. Like—like he thought he had something to prove. This was all wrong, all wrong. G had the wrong idea, but Wayne knew one thing, he could make those same damn moans Jake had made. He needed to tell G this wasn't curiosity. He knew exactly what he was doing.

G didn't act surprised when he didn't get shoved away, he went for it, seized the opportunity and slid his hand around to the back of Wayne's head, digging his blunt nails through his hair to scrape at his scalp. G laid his other hand on Wayne's arm, circling the biggest part of his biceps, up under his sleeve, thumb moving slightly. He wasn't a good kisser, he was a _great_ kisser. Wayne had to struggle to keep up, was tempted to stop trying, just give in to it, and he never fucking gave in to anything. 

He shook off G's hold on his arm and grabbed him, no finesse, no style in it. He grabbed, and shoved his hands up under that horrible t-shirt looking for skin. He tried to take over. He was a little taller, he tried to force G back, to open up and give in to him, but the fucking bastard evaded him, pulled off completely and started working at the underside of Wayne's jaw with his mouth, moving along to his neck, pausing to nibble on his ear for a second. 

He was going the wrong way. Wayne knew exactly where he wanted that mouth. "I want, fuck, G, I want your mouth so bad."

"Yeah, I bet you you do," G said. "Not the first time I've heard that."

"Please, man," Wayne said, all dignity gone. He pulled away, and he took in G's face, the filthy look he was giving Wayne. "Please," Wayne said, and he grabbed again, pulled G in for another kiss. His mouth, his body, polished granite, every inch of him perfect. Shame about the face, he'd say if they weren't in the middle of something too serious for that kind of joke. G would laugh, that was the best thing about him.

"I'm a sure thing, Wayne, quit begging," G said lightly when he broke away from Wayne like he'd never really had a grip on him. "Come over here and get comfortable." His eyes glittered with intent. So much devil in him, and Wayne couldn't be happier. 

Wayne let G strip him down, not bothering to take of his shirt, just pulling it up out of the way. "Oh, that's nice," G said, wrapping his hand around Wayne's cock. "I'd noticed, but yeah, that's perfect." 

You weren't supposed to notice. Everybody knew that. Wayne had decided that as long as no one ever knew he'd noticed, it was okay that he couldn't help himself. It was good to know he wasn't the only one.

G handled him with confidence, like it was something he knew he was good at. Like how he played, not how he did some other things, like talk to people. He sucked Wayne's cock like that's what his mouth was for, and holy shit, why the hell ever talk to anyone ever if you could communicate like that? 

Wayne had been thinking about this, imagining this from the first second he'd seen G's lips touch Jake. He'd kept his noticing from ever invading his imagination before that. "Ah, fuck, G, that's so fucking good. You're so good at this." G went down deep, and Wayne sucked in a breath and pounded the mattress with his fist. "G, come on, man, go for it, don't, just, I need you to—"

"I know what you need," G said, voice made even huskier from, fuck, from sucking his cock. If he let G _talk_ him into coming, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Shut up and suck it," he said, trying to be funny, trying to be the way they were normally, and maybe it fell a little flat, but G got him, it would be okay. "Oh, yeah, like that," he said when G went back to it. It was perfect, he was perfect, and Wayne wanted to stay inside him forever. 

"G, holy shit," he said when G went at him even harder, swirling his tongue around, and dragging the come out of him. It wasn't that he gave no warning, it's that it was all out of his hands. G was owning him completely. Taking him completely. 

You couldn't have forever, even he knew that's why sex was so addictive. You could only have over and over again. He was already thinking about it, the next time. "G, man, come up here," Wayne said, flailing around trying to find him. He'd sat down on the floor, and he had his hand in his shorts. 

Well, hell, those fucking shorts were so huge, there was room for a whole party in there. Wayne dropped down onto the floor, less agilely than he'd wanted too, but he was in time to join the party. He muscled G flat onto the floor, and kissed him, trying to tell him how good he'd been with his mouth, with his hand on his dick. He wanted to see him, wanted to get G inside his mouth. Wanted, maybe, to let G fuck him sometime when they could take their time. The idea scared him a little, but he couldn't imagine anyone safer than G to try it with. 

He laughed, thinking that. No one thought G was the safe choice, not for anything except scoring goals. "Man you're so fucking good," he said softly. He brushed his lips over G's face, not wanting to be too something—too soft, too sweet. G wasn't like that, and he didn't want to put him off, so he only did it once. G's eyes were closed, and the smile was gone from his lips, which was a shame—that dirty grin did things to Wayne. 

"Come on, man," he said. G was barely making any noise while he worked him over with his hand. "Let me see you. You were so good, let me see you."

He turned his head and gasped when he came, nothing like the racket he'd wrung out of Wayne. He looked young like that, face softened from pleasure. Wayne wanted to brush back his hair and kiss him again, but it seemed wrong somehow, now that they were done, that they weren't on the boil anymore. 

He pulled his hand away and G didn't seem like he was moving any time soon. He had his feet planted on the carpet and he'd thrown one arm over his face. "I'm going to go clean up," Wayne said.

He used G's bathroom, and found him up and fidgeting near the door when he came back out. G's hat was back on his head, and his clothes looked as rumpled as ever, the pink of his mouth, the only evidence of what they'd been doing. "G?" he said. Now it was weird. He should have seen that coming, but now it was really weird. 

"Hey, it was nothing, right? You got what you wanted." G said, flashing that fake smile again. Why the hell would G think he could fake Wayne out on this? They were bros. They were brothers, almost as much as him and Jake. "And you know, I won't tell anyone," G said quickly, before Wayne could get a word in. "Not Jake. You know. Definitely not Jake."

G took advantage of his confusion and hustled him out the door. He was on the wrong side of a locked door, post sex haze leaving him depressed in a way it never usually did. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it hadn't ended like he'd wanted. 

He went back to his own room, and to Jake, the only place he had to go. Jake was reading something on his computer, frown on his face. "Jake?" Wayne said.

"Uh huh?" Jake answered, not bothering to look up. 

"What would you say if I told you I was gay?" Wayne was an inch away from passing out, he was so light headed, but he needed Jake to fix this for him.

"I'd say that would explain why watching G stick his tongue in my mouth got you so hot," Jake said, like he was talking about the fucking chance of snow in fucking wherever the hell they were. He finally looked over, faint smile on his face. "But I think you're telling the wrong guy. I think you want the ugly one down the hall."

"Yeah, about that, I think I fucked up."

"Wayne," Jake said, and shook his head in that way he had that said Wayne was the little brother in this relationship, but Jake would always be there to clean up his messes. "What did you do?"


End file.
